Page 44 of For Silence

"Talk to me," Derik urged once they were out of earshot.

She exhaled sharply, releasing some of her tightly coiled tension. "Richmond's story... it lines up with what we know about Lara. But damn it, Derik, his cowardice might have cost that girl her life."

"Can't argue with you there," Derik replied, his green eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and frustration. "But we can't lose focus. There's a bigger picture here."

"Right." Morgan pressed her lips together, her mind racing. "Caldwell. If he's not our guy, and I'm starting to believe he isn't, then who at Dependence News had motive and opportunity?"

"Someone close enough to the victims... someone with knowledge of their cases," Derik added, piecing together the puzzle alongside her.

"Exactly." Morgan's resolve hardened like steel. "We need to talk to Caldwell again, see if he can point us toward anyone with a grudge against these women. It's time to shake the tree, see what falls out."

"Then let's not waste any more time," Derik said, determination lighting his features.

Morgan nodded, her mind already leaping ahead to the confrontation with the journalist. They would peel back the layers of this conspiracy, expose the rot at its heart. Whoever was using Henry Caldwell's pulpit to preach their twisted retribution would answer for their crimes.

The two agents moved with purpose, each step carrying them closer to the truth—and to a killer hiding in plain sight.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Morgan's gaze was unwavering as she observed Henry Caldwell, his once-triumphant posture now slumped in resignation. The sterile lights of the FBI headquarters flickered overhead, casting a harsh glow on the journalist's drawn features. Beside him, a lawyer, all sharp angles and tailored suit, whispered something that didn't seem to penetrate the fog surrounding Caldwell.

"Mr. Caldwell," Morgan began, her voice steady and authoritative, "we regret the circumstances of your apprehension. However, given your focus on judicial corruption, it placed you squarely within our sights." She watched for a reaction, any hint of guilt or defiance, but found none.

Henry met her eyes, his passivity a stark contrast to the fervor with which he usually pursued his stories. "I get it, Agent Cross," he said, his voice devoid of its usual edge. "You're looking for a killer in my backyard. Just not me."

"Exactly," Derik chimed in, leaning forward. His green eyes searched Henry's face, seeking truth in every crease and furrow. "We have reason to believe someone at Dependence News is behind these murders."

Henry's brows lifted ever so slightly. "That's a serious accusation," he noted, but the statement lacked force.

"Serious times," Morgan replied curtly. She could sense the unspoken communication between Henry and his lawyer, a silent exchange of strategy and reassurance.

"Another victim was almost added to the list tonight," Morgan continued, letting the gravity of the situation hang in the air. "Lara Quentin was nearly killed in a hit and run. She survived."

Recognition flickered across Henry's features like a shadow passing. "Lara? Of course, I know her. She's around the courthouse often—"

"Any idea why anyone would target her?" Derik asked, his curiosity piqued as he leaned in closer.

"Can't say," Henry replied, shaking his head slowly. "She's just a secretary, isn't she? Why her?"

"Secretaries hear things," Morgan stated flatly, her mind already running through the possibilities. Lara Quentin had been on the periphery of their investigation, a name amongst many, but now she was a pivotal piece of the puzzle—a potential witness turned victim.

"Seems like this killer is trying to send a message," Derik suggested, glancing at Morgan, who nodded in agreement.

"Indeed," Morgan said, locking eyes with Henry, trying to shake loose any detail from the journalist's methodical mind. "The question is, what's the message, and who's really listening?" Morgan stepped closer to Henry, noting the weariness etched in the creases of his face. "Who else is close to Lara at the office?"

"Carrie, the receptionist,” he said first. "And Gavin," Henry added, a flicker of something undefinable crossing his features.

"Gavin?" Derik chimed in, flipping open his notebook.

Henry nodded. "Gavin Merritt. Young reporter. I took him under my wing when he started—showed him the ropes."

"Tell us about him," Morgan insisted, her gaze unwavering. She watched as Henry's eyes softened at the mention of his protégé.

"Passionate doesn't quite capture it," Henry began, leaning back in his chair. "Gavin... he has this zeal for exposing corruption, for setting things right." He chuckled lightly. "Reminds me of myself a decade ago. But murder?" Henry shook his head firmly. "No, that's not Gavin."

"Everyone has a breaking point, Henry," Morgan countered, her dark eyes searching his.

"Maybe so," Henry conceded, "But Gavin's driven by his ideals, not violence."

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